


Mr. October

by Sath



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 3-Ring Binders Filled With Victor Nikiforov, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/pseuds/Sath
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki's relationship with posters of Victor Nikiforov, through the years. And Victor Nikiforov's relationship with posters of Victor Nikiforov, right after he sees them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maitimiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maitimiel/gifts).



Yuuri had come to America so he could be a better skater, not to make friends. Phichit wasn’t discouraged by Yuuri hiding in his room, all night, every night, and finally lured him out with hamsters. They weren’t Vicchan, but they were something.

So Yuuri still stayed in his room most of the time, but Gold, Silver, and Bronze (plus Phichit) could sit with him. He was working on a paper that was due yesterday—Yuuri had been struggling with it for weeks because every topic he tried was terrible—when Phichit came in. Yuuri didn’t look up from the screen, though he did reach out to rub behind Silver’s ears after Phichit flopped on the bed.

“Your walls are so bare,” Phichit said, sighing. “It’s depressing.”

“I don’t need to be distracted while I’m here.”

“I’ve never once seen you have fun in three months.”

 _Oh god, this topic is even worse than the last one but there’s no time to change it now_ , Yuuri thought, staring at the screen before he remembered that Phichit had said something. “There’s no time for fun when you’re taking four online courses and they all have research papers.”

“That sounds terrible,” Phichit replied, and Yuuri heard the click of his phone camera. “Who’s your favorite skater?”

No one had asked Yuuri that question in years. Because everyone in his life already knew. Even if Yuuri held himself back from talking about Victor, there were all the posters on the wall. He’d only had to buy half of them himself; the rest were from his parents. They didn’t really understand skating, but they were good at recognizing Yuuri’s idol. 

“Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri mumbled, trying to keep his mind on patterns of agrarian settlement in the Nara Valley, and not on Victor’s 2014 gala performance at Worlds. Only Victor would have put three quads into a gala.

“Oh, Victor’s amazing.” Phichit paused, then said, “You must have named your dog after him. That’s cute. Doesn’t Victor have a poodle too?”

Yuuri had to change the subject immediately. “Are there hamsters in _The King and the Skater?”_

 “Yes! The hamsters actually help save the king—“

 

* * *

 

A poster of Victor Nikiforov was on Yuuri’s bedroom wall. It was taped up a little crookedly, making Yuuri want to reach out and adjust it. Phichit left a Post-it note underneath it saying, “Hope this brightens up your room!  =) =) =) P.S. He looks extra handsome in this one, don’t you think?”

The poster was from last season, showing Victor skating in the black costume the press had called “military funeral chic” and “the Bling Reaper.” It wasn’t Yuuri’s favorite of Victor’s costumes; Victor was left without any color but his blue eyes, gazing longingly at the camera as if something lurked behind it. He seemed lonely whenever he wasn’t smiling. His smile had changed over the years Yuuri had watched him, shifting from earnest to artful as he aged. As much as Yuuri wanted to come closer to Victor, to skate on the same ice with him, Victor went farther away.

Yuuri felt himself blush. At least Phichit wasn’t coming back until much later, since he’d gone to the party Yuuri was avoiding. He gave in to the urge to touch the poster’s corners and gently unstick it from the wall. Victor’s eyes seemed to look up at him plaintively. “You should all watch me tonight,” Victor had blithely said, “or you’ll miss history.” Everyone believed him because he was Victor Nikiforov, skating god, and he broke his FS world record a few hours later.

Taking down the poster would be rude and ungrateful. But Yuuri had to make it sit level or he’d stare at it. Stare at it _more_ , because the camera caught the taut, muscular shape of Victor’s ass just off-center. Yuuri had tracked the development of Victor’s ass more earnestly than he wanted to admit. He did his best to make the poster level before he re-taped it, his fingers dragging over Victor’s broad shoulders. People had worried that Victor’s growth spurt would kill his career, as he transformed from the androgynous, elfin figure on the left side of Yuuri’s wall at home to the heartthrob on the right. Every time Victor changed, he was reborn for the audience.  

Yuuri hadn’t changed in years. He was a brutally consistent skater: high marks on presentation, low on technical. Jumps he’d landed dozens of times in practice turned into over-rotations, under-rotations, and outright falls when he was before the judges. Victor, on the other hand, performed perfectly almost every time. His occasional falls reminded people that he was human after all, which made his skills even more enviable.

After he finished straightening the poster, Yuuri sighed and stretched out in bed. Being able to look up at Victor again made Yuuri feel a little homesick. Victor was so gorgeous, and talented, and one day, Yuuri might see him as an equal. Yuuri had run into him a few times after competitions, but Victor had never seemed to take any notice of him. There were more talented skaters for Victor to speak to.

How did that costume in the poster come off? The zipper was probably in the back, hidden by the sequins and beading. Yuuri checked that the door was closed before he shoved his hand down his underwear. It had been so long, and he barely had time to waste on jerking off. But there was a poster of Victor Nikiforov in his room again, bringing back the familiar confusing, inspiring lust that had dogged Yuuri since puberty. It felt a little like Yuuri was defiling his idol, but Victor would never know.

As he started to slowly stroke himself, Yuuri imagined that Victor would keep the same chilly smile, no matter what Yuuri did. Yuuri could kiss Victor’s throat, slide the tight costume down his pale skin, run his hands all over Victor’s body without ever feeling him warm up—Victor would stay like the ice he’d mastered. There were better fantasies, where Victor might really smile at Yuuri and want him, but Yuuri didn’t know what that would look like.

He never would.

 

* * *

 

Victor was laughing as they stumbled towards Yuuri’s room. “I want to kiss your gold from Nationals again,” Victor murmured, drunk and happy.

“Shh, you can’t wake my parents.”

“I want to kiss you,” Victor said, quieter now.

Yuuri managed to get them past the door and shut it behind them. The room was so dark he could barely see Victor’s silhouette as he tugged him into the bed. Victor took his hands off Yuuri for just long enough to turn on the lamp.

Every single poster of Victor that Yuuri had taken down was back up. His mother must have done it, thinking that since Victor and Yuuri were so close that it wouldn’t be strange to have posters of Victor plastering the room. She’d put the picture of Victor in his own room, after all.

“Shit,” Yuuri hissed, tucking his head against Victor’s neck to hide. He knew he _couldn’t_ die of embarrassment, because he’d survived his figure skating career, but he felt like he _should_. “Those are from a long time ago.”

“Yuuri, these are delightful! I wish you’d had them up earlier,” Victor replied. “Oh, except for that one. I hated that shirt. Yakov picked it and then I burnt it afterwards.”

Victor sat up and reached out for the month of October in the _2012 Victor Nikoforov Deluxe Calendar_ , yanking it down. “Why don’t you have May up?” Victor asked. “It was my favorite.”

May 2012 was a picture of Victor sunbathing nude in Siberia. Yuuri had kept that one in a binder. “You remember your own calendars?”

“Of course.” Victor crinkled up October and threw it in the trash. “You remember all mine, don’t you?”

Yuuri wasn’t sure whether he’d rather crawl under the covers and marinate in his shame, or jealously step between Victor and his fascination with his own image. “Yes,” Yuuri muttered.

“Good!” Victor ran his fingers over his hair from 2009, probably thinking that it was thicker back then. “You know, I got hate mail after I cut off my long hair. I wish Instagram had been around back then—I would’ve loved the comment section.”

Yuuri would’ve fought in the comments.

Pressing his cheek against a close-up of his own face, Victor asked, “Did you ever look at these while you touched yourself? Which poster should I be the most envious of?”

“Victor!” Yuuri pulled him forward by the collar, breaking the spell between Victor and his reflection. All of Victor’s attention was back on Yuuri when he leaned forward to kiss him, rubbing Yuuri’s shoulders where he’d worn his first gold. “March 2014,” Yuuri admitted. “The one with the spread-eagle.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have a happy Chocolate unBoxing, Maitimiel! And thanks go out to my two betas/cheerleaders, Eehn and Havisham!


End file.
